


i've come to burn your kingdom down

by krakeneggs



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Blood, Blood Kink, F/M, Fallen Angels, Hell, Immortals, Regeneration, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-12 16:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17471183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krakeneggs/pseuds/krakeneggs
Summary: Mallory's a fallen angel, corrupted by the ruler of hell himself, Michael Langdon.They fight, they fuck, they kill each other, and regenerate to do it all over again, for the rest of their immortal lives.Just because they can.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> immortal beings being cute, that's all there is

She wakes up to someone’s hand gently brushing through her hair, stopping every so often to carefully detangle any knots. The hand massages its way to her scalp, and she purrs in contentment. God, she loves the feeling of having her hair being played with.

Another hand runs softly up and down the length of her spine, tracing over every bump and curve of her body.

“You should really use a better conditioner.” Michael says, leaning in close to speak softly into her ear. Okay, romantic moment ruined.

Mallory slowly opens her eyes to glare at him. She knocks her forehead against his, with a little more force than she intended.

“Ow, good morning to you too, my _sweet angel_.” He says mockingly, rubbing at the red mark on his forehead. It heals instantaneously, the only sign of injury being his wounded ego.

“In case you didn’t realize, living in the fiery pits of hell can be pretty bad for your hair. Well, my hair, at least.” She reaches up to tug at a silky blond lock of his hair. Yep, still just like Rapunzel, hair as fine as spun gold.

“And _you_ won’t share your conditioner with me, because ‘I went out to get it myself, don’t be lazy dear.’” She lowers her voice to mimic his.

“I invited you to come to the Surface with me to get some, but instead you wanted to stay here and nap.” He says.

“I was tired from playing with Cerberus!” She says, referring to his beloved three-headed hellhound. She’d throw the bones of whatever poor soul had managed to escape torture that day, and he’d run and retrieve them, where she would then reanimate them and feed them to him.

“Oh, you spoil him too much.”

“You’re just jealous that your dog likes me more than he does you.” She smirks at him.

“Yes, I’m _so_ jealous of a dog.” He rolls his eyes.

As unaffected as he may seem, she still notices the slight pout on his face. She knows Michael, can notice his tells for when he’s angry, or sad, or jealous, no matter how well he thinks he’s hiding. She grabs the collar of his shirt and tugs him down to her level, ignoring his protests, _Mallory babe please this is designer,_ and kisses him.

She moans into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding against hers. His hands go to her hips, the skin there burning with his touch even through the material of her nightgown. Until Michael, she never knew how addicting desire was. How she craves the heat of his skin against her, the warmth of his body curled protectively over her when they sleep. He’s like a drug that she will never get enough of, but that’s exactly how she likes it.

When they finally break apart, Mallory’s breathing heavily and Michael’s eyes are dark, filled with lust. His thumb brushes against her bottom lip and she playfully nips at it.

“Can we go to the Surface today?” She looks at him with her big brown doe eyes, batting her lashes for extra effect. Her fingers curl around his bicep, squeezing gently.

“Oh, so _now_ you wanna go.”

“Pretty please?” She presses a kiss to the side of his neck. He doesn’t relent, just watches her with interest, to see what she’ll do in order to get what she wants. And his fallen angel has gotten craftier in the time that he’s known her, become more cunning and manipulative. He loves it, much like he loves her.

“Show me how pretty my angel can beg.” He says.

“Pretty,” _kiss,_ “pretty,” _kiss,_ “please.” _kiss._

“Mallory.” He says. “You can do better than that.”

She trails kisses up his neck, along his sharp jawline, and stopping at his earlobe, nibbling and biting as she straddles his body. Her hands glide up and down his chest, stroking his body as well as his ego, his need to be adored. She bites down, hard enough to draw blood, at the juncture of his neck and collar, and grins at the sharp inhale he makes. She smooths her tongue over the wound, then sucks harshly. Her hips grind against his, heated core flush against his hard cock.

“Think of all the havoc we could wreak, all the destruction we could leave behind today. Let’s start a few fires, or maybe a few wars.” She whispers into his ear, and she thinks she hears him whine softly. “We could burn down a church, that’s always fun. Or sacrifice some pretty boys and girls to ourselves.” With that last line, she knows she’s got him, hook, line, and sinker. He never could resist a good sacrifice.

“Okay.” He says breathlessly. “How could I ever say no to my Mallory?” He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, a tenderness that he treats no one else with. It’s always just been her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw blood
> 
> also there's smut in this chapter - inspired by That scene in Gone Girl :)
> 
> also reupload cause apparently it wasn't showing up as updated idk

His eyes flutter shut as she sucks a bruise at the base of his throat. Her teeth drag sharply over his skin. She palms his cock in one hand, and materializes a dagger in her other, slicing a clean line across his throat. He can only widen his crystal eyes in surprise before they roll back in his head. She just smiles mockingly at him, and mimics his shocked expression, to be the last thing he sees before he dies.    
  
He thrashes beneath her, hands clutching at his wound, trying to stop the blood slipping between his fingers. She swears she gets wetter as she feels the spray of his blood on her skin, staining her silky white nightgown a deep red. She rocks her hips against his, biting back a moan. She watches enraptured, watches the light fade from his eyes, turning them into a dull blue, a stark contrast from the vibrancy she’s used to.    
  
Blood bubbles up in his throat and he lets out a strangled gasp before he stills. She giggles, flipping her hair over her shoulder as to keep it from sticking to her face. She trails a finger through the stream of blood flowing down his neck, and puts it in her mouth. As expected, it tastes metallic and tangy, with a hint of something sweeter. Must be what sin tastes like.    
  
She sits in his lap, counting down from ten. The deep cut in his neck starts to slowly stitch itself back together, pale skin mending itself before her very eyes. There’s no trace of a scar, any evidence that his throat has been sliced open.    
  
Michael coughs, clearing his throat of the liquid pooling there, and blinks.    
  
“Mallory.” He says darkly. She shivers beneath his hot gaze. “You ruined my suit.”   
  
“Don’t wear a five thousand suit to bed.” She shrugs nonchalantly. Inside, arousal curls deep in the pit of her stomach. Her mind races with possibilities of what he’ll do to her.    
  
He trails his fingers up her bare thigh and looks at her with a devious smile. They slip higher and higher, until they reach her slit. She rocks forward, wanting him to push his fingers into her dripping pussy and make her scream.    
  
Instead, he flips her onto her front, face down, perfectly curved ass high in the air, and pushes into her wet heat.    
  
She moans at the thickness of him, filling her up. One hand presses down onto the small of her back, while the other rubs circles at her clit.

She buries her face into the mattress, as he fucks roughly into her. The heady scent of blood and sex fills the air, and it only turns her on even more. This is one of her favourite games, killing Michael, or letting him kill her, waiting for the other person to revive before they fuck, covered in blood and bruises. 

The first time it was an accident. One hand tight on her neck, two fingers pumping in and out of her pussy. She didn’t realize she died unless she regained consciousness with a gasp, and Michael holding her tight to him, whispering apologies into her neck. In response, she just hiked up her dress and rode him until she came. 

The memory, combined with the fact that he’s pulled her up to his chest, mouthing at the sensitive spot right behind her ear, is almost too much for her. 

“Close?” He whispers, husky voice sending shivers down her spine. 

“Mhm.” She bites her lips and nods. He slows down, and Mallory lets out a low, needy whine.

“What’s the magic word?” He asks. His hand trails up her body, taking a breast in one hand, tracing slow circles around her nipple.

“Please.” She says. She tries to reach down to touch herself, for that final push over the edge, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her arm behind her back. 

“Please,  _ daddy. _ ” 

His cock twitches inside her, and he begins a renewed assault on her pussy, thrusting up into her. 

It gets to be too much when he takes her lobe between his teeth and glides his hand to her clit, that has her coming with a scream, going limp in his grasp.

She’s vaguely aware of Michael coming not soon after, but too blissed out to care. He kisses the top of her head.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, before laying them both down and pulling the covers over their sweaty bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coolcephalopod.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little bit of backstory! and then they fuck shit up!!

Mallory loves going to the Surface. All of her days are usually spent lounging in the luxuries of Hell, enjoying the pleasures and sins that she had forbidden herself from during her time as an Angel of Heaven. Of course, she has the freedom to come and go as she pleases, considering she’s dating the son of the devil himself, and she takes advantage of that as often as she can. Preferably, she’ll go to the Surface when Michael is with her, expanding their potential to cause double the destruction and chaos, but she doesn’t mind going alone.

She sees the naivety of humanity, their blind faith in a being that will never answer their call. She remembers how she used to be like that, full of hope, inexperienced and trusting, and willing to always see the good in people. She always knew she was destined to be something more, more than a simple angel meant to save a humanity that didn’t deserve it. It never felt right to her, what she was doing. She was supposed to be content with the simple life, of doing good things for people and asking for nothing with return, but she needed more, craved a meaning in her life. Mallory was so lost, stumbling around like a newborn foal that barely understood the complications of life, when she found Michael. Or rather. He found her. One of God’s angels, his divine beings. He saw the darkness inside of her, its need to be released, clawing its way out of her body and taking its rightful place by his side. 

When she fell, all she knew was pain of the worst kind, the emptiness that came with the loss of her angelic powers. But he was there at her side, guiding her through it, and imbuing her with his own power. He took her darkness and made it her strength instead of a so-called weakness. He showed her the truth, the endless void of reality. She looked into the vast abyss of darkness, and it looked back. 

Instead of fluffy white wings that glitter and sparkle with the slightest of movement, her wings morphed into an iridescent black, sleek and lustrous, that shimmered with traces of red at the tips. She likes to wear a crown made out of the finest gold in all the land, a shining mockery of the halo she used to have.

If she had the chance to do it all over again, she would pick Michael, every time.

“Ready to go, my love?” Michael extends his hand towards her, his own wings extending from his back. They’re a midnight black, large and elegant, perfectly fitting for the prince of Hell.

“Race you to the surface.” She grins wickedly, and shoots off. She hasn’t used her wings in so long she was worried she’d forget how to, but it’s like riding a bike. She weaves through the varying levels of Hell, dodging tortured souls and eternal sufferers and finally breaks through to the Surface. 

She lands in a secluded alley that smells of beer and piss, and glamours herself to fit in with the mortals, wings retreating into her back. She’s wearing a short-sleeved black crop top that stops just above her navel, with a bronze skirt that reaches halfway down her thigh.

“Ugh.” She scoffs, as she checks the heel of her shoe. A piece of old gum sticks to the bottom of her boot, and she groans in disgust. With a flick of her wrist, it’s discarded onto the roof of a nearby dumpster and set aflame. 

“Starting without me already?” Michael says behind her as his arm wraps around her waist. His thumb rubs at the soft skin exposed by her top, and she leans into his warm embrace. He’s wearing a deep maroon trench coat over a black button-down shirt and black slacks, with a pair of black dress shoes. All designer, typical Michael. She looks like she’s going to the club to get wasted off of happy hour cocktails, while he looks like he’s on his way to a fancy dinner at some extravagant restaurant with some of the world’s most influential leaders.

She just grins at him, tongue poking out between her teeth. “Just having a little fun.”

“What do you say, my love, shall we ruin this quiet little town?” 

“Yes, sir.” She says darkly.

He groans at that, a jolt of arousal running through his body, and captures her lips with his. 

It only takes one library set ablaze, one vandalized church window, and one carefully whispered suggestion into the mayor’s ear, that his wife is cheating on him, before the sleepy little town they’ve targeted descends into chaos. Riots form in the town square, buildings going up in flames, and all the townspeople turn on each other. Accusations on cheating and betrayal arise, long-buried secrets rise to the surface, tearing families apart. 

Mallory and Michael sit on a hill that overlooks the whole town, once a model of perfect suburban life, now descent into chaos and destruction. Her head rests on his shoulder as she snuggles into his side. She yawns, and closes her eyes. He looks at her, the light of the flames dancing off of her skin, illuminating her eager skins as the town burns. She looks as beautiful as she did on the day they met, when they changed each other’s lives forever. 

“Hey, Mal?” 

She hums in response, still enraptured by the scene unfolding before her. 

“Let’s go tear apart another sleepy town.”  _ I love you.  _

She responds by taking his hand in hers, and tracing a heart into his palm, before lacing their fingers together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coolcephalopod.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> ignore my awful summary and tags  
> also idk if the formatting got messed up lemme know
> 
> coolcephalopod.tumblr.com


End file.
